‘I thought,’ said she, after seating herself at the tea-table, ‘that my
cousin would have stopped to-night; but I understand he has gone away.’
‘Perhaps,’ replied her father, ‘had you requested him, he might have
stayed!’
‘I don’t think he would for me,’ was her answer.--‘He does not appear
particularly satisfied when I attempt to interfere with any of his
proceedings.’
‘Then you do sometimes attempt to interfere?’ said her father, somewhat
surprised at the observation, and not suspecting that she had heard one
word of what had passed, every syllable of which was carefully stored
in the treasury of her bosom.
The young lady perceived that she was proceeding a little too quickly,
and drew in her horns.
‘All,’ said she, ‘that I meant to remark was, that he is not very
tractable, which I regret;’ and she contrived to give a sigh.
‘Why should you regret it so particularly?’ inquired her father, a
little struck at the peculiar accent with which she had expressed
herself.
‘I cannot tell,’ was her adroit reply; and then she added, in a brisker
tone,--‘But I wonder what business I have to trouble myself about him?’
For some time her father made no return to this; but, pushing back his
chair from the tea-table till he had reached the chimney-corner, he
leant his elbow on the mantelpiece, and appeared for several minutes
in a state of profound abstraction. In the meantime, Mrs. Walkinshaw
had continued the conversation with her daughter, observing to her that
she did, indeed, think her cousin must be a very headstrong lad; for he
had spoken that night to her father in such a manner as had not only
astonished but distressed him. ‘However,’ said she,--‘he is still a
mere boy; and, I doubt not, will, before long is past, think better of
what his uncle has been telling him.’
‘I am extremely sorry,’ replied Robina, with the very voice of the
most artless sympathy, though, perhaps, a little more accentuated
than simplicity would have employed--‘I am very sorry, indeed, that
any difference has arisen between him and my father. I am sure I have
always heard him spoken of as an amiable and very deserving young man.
I trust it is of no particular consequence.’
‘It is of the utmost consequence,’ interposed her father; ‘and it is of
more to you than to any other besides.’
‘To me, Sir! how is that possible?--What have I to do with him, or he
with me? I am sure, except in being more deficient in his civilities
than those of most of my acquaintance, I have had no occasion to remark
anything particular in his behaviour or conduct towards me.’
‘I know it--I know it,’ exclaimed her father; ‘and therein lies the
source of all my anxiety.’
‘I fear that I do not rightly understand you,’ said the cunning girl.
‘Nor do I almost wish that you ever should; but, nevertheless, my heart
is so intent on the business, that I think, were you to second my
endeavours, the scheme might be accomplished.’
‘The scheme?--What scheme?’ replied the most unaffected Robina.
‘In a word, child,’ said her father, ‘how would you like James as a
husband?’
‘How can I tell?’ was her simple answer. ‘He has never given me any
reason to think on the subject.’
‘You cannot, however, but long have seen that it was with me a
favourite object?’
‘I confess it;--and, perhaps, I have myself,’ she said, with a second
sigh--‘thought more of it than I ought to have done; but I have never
had any encouragement from him.’
‘How unhappy am I,’ thought her father to himself--‘The poor thing is
as much disposed to the match as my heart could hope for.--Surely,
surely, by a little address and perseverance, the romantic boy may be
brought to reason and to reflect;’ and he then said to her--‘My dear
Robina, you have been the subject of my conversation with James this
evening; but I am grieved to say, that his sentiments, at present, are
neither favourable to your wishes nor to mine.--He seems enchanted by
Mrs. Eadie’s relation, and talked so much nonsense on the subject that
we almost quarrelled.’
‘I shall never accept of a divided heart,’ said the young lady
despondingly; ‘and I entreat, my dear father, that you will never take
another step in the business; for, as long as I can recollect, he has
viewed me with eyes of aversion--and in all that time he has been the
playmate, and the lover, perhaps, of Ellen Frazer.--Again I implore you
to abandon every idea of promoting a union between him and me: It can
never take place on his part but from the most sordid considerations of
interest; nor on mine without feeling that I have been but as a bale
bargained for.’
Her father listened with attention to what she said--it appeared
reasonable--it was spirited; but there was something, nevertheless, in
it which did not quite satisfy his mind, though the sense was clear and
complete.
‘Of course,’ he replied, guardedly; ‘I should never require you to
bestow your hand where you had not already given your affections; but
it does not follow that because the headstrong boy is at this time
taken up with Miss Frazer, that he is always to remain of the same
mind. On the contrary, Robina, were you to exert a little address, I am
sure you would soon draw him from that unfortunate attachment.’
‘What woman,’ said she, with an air of supreme dignity, ‘would submit
to pilfer the betrothed affections of any man? No, sir, I cannot do
that--nor ought I; and pardon me when I use the expression, nor will I.
Had my cousin made himself more agreeable to me, I do not say that such
would have been my sentiments; but having seen nothing in his behaviour
that can lead me to hope from him anything but the same constancy in
his dislike which I have ever experienced, I should think myself base,
indeed, were I to allow you to expect that I may alter my opinion.’
Nothing further passed at that time; for to leave the impression which
she intended to produce as strong as possible, she immediately rose and
left the room. Her father soon after also quitted his seat, and after
taking two or three turns across the floor, went to his own apartment.
‘I am the most unfortunate of men,’ said he to himself, ‘and my poor
Robina is no less frustrated in her affections. I cannot, however,
believe that the boy is so entirely destitute of prudence as not to
think of what I have told him. I must give him time. Old heads do
not grow on young shoulders. But it never occurred to me that Robina
was attached to him; on the contrary, I have always thought that the
distaste was stronger on her part than on his. But it is of no use to
vex myself on the subject. Let me rest satisfied to-night with having
ascertained that at least on Robina’s part there is no objection to the
match. My endeavours hereafter must be directed to detach James from
the girl Frazer. It will, however, be no easy task, for he is ardent
and enthusiastic, and she has undoubtedly many of those graces which
readiest find favour in a young man’s eye.’
He then hastily rose, and hurriedly paced the room.
‘Why am I cursed,’ he exclaimed, ‘with this joyless and barren fate?
Were Robina a son, all my anxieties would be hushed; but with her my
interest in the estate of my ancestors terminates. Her mother, however,
may yet’--and he paused. ‘It is very weak,’ he added in a moment
after, ‘to indulge in these reflections. I have a plain task before
me, and instead of speculating on hopes and chances, I ought to set
earnestly about it, and leave no stone unturned till I have performed
it thoroughly.’
With this he composed his mind for the remainder of the evening, and
when he again joined Robina and her mother, the conversation by all
parties was studiously directed to indifferent topics.